To Ride the Thunder
by fms-fangirl
Summary: Randy drove Evan away with a thoughtless comment and Evan isn't ready to start again, but someone is determined to make them resolve their differences. Follow-up to What Happens on the Road...
1. Chapter 1

Randy slumped, gasping, over Evan's back as he waited for his heartbeat to return to normal. Finally, easing away, he reached around to take hold of Evan's shaft, only to have his hand batted away.

"It's okay," Evan mumbled.

"But you didn't… Let me –"

"No, really. It's okay," he said, rolling over and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

"You don't have to leave," Randy said, as Evan began to gather his clothes from the floor and dress.

"I already have a room paid for. I might as well use it."

It was on the tip of Randy's tongue to offer to pay for Evan's room himself, but, remembering the look of scorn he had directed at him the last time he suggested that, he kept his mouth shut. "Will I see you tomorrow?" he asked.

"Probably not, but maybe on Monday after Raw."

"Okay, um, sure."

"Then I'll see you around," Evan said as he finished dressing and left the room.

Randy stared at the closed door and sighed. Why was he doing this to himself, he wondered. Because you're an idiot, he answered himself. Because you drove him away with a stupid, thoughtless comment. The only thing that gave him any hope was a brief conversation he'd had with Josh Matthews.

He had been making his way through the arena backstage shortly before the first Raw telecast since they had been snowbound and Josh had stopped him and said, "I haven't seen Evan yet today. Did his cold get worse?"

Randy had stared at the smaller man, his brow furrowed. "What cold?"

"You know," he answered. "The other morning he was blowing his nose and his eyes were watering like crazy. I hope he didn't pass it on to you, since you were sharing a room," he finished smiling innocently at Randy.

Realising the significance of this comment, Randy's heart had leapt as he managed to answer Josh, "I'm sure he's fine now. He's probably running a little late. The airport was a madhouse today."

"Oh good. He really did look awful the other day."

Since the company had reassembled that Friday, his contact with Evan had been minimal. He had given him an impersonal smile a couple of times, but he always seemed to melt away before Randy had a chance to approach him. Determined not to let him escape again, Randy had waited outside the locker room and waylaid him as he made his way backstage after his match. Although he had hesitated, Evan had accepted his invitation to go for a burger after the show. They had ended out back in Randy's room, but Evan had calmly changed the subject when he attempted to discuss the comments he had made during the storm.

In the weeks since, they had met once or twice during each house-show loop. Evan had displayed none of the ferocity he had during their first night, seeming content to allow Randy to take the lead in their encounters, but there existed a barrier between them. Evan allowed Randy complete access to his body, but none to his soul. Even their easy friendship of earlier days had vanished.

This couldn't go on any longer, Randy decided. Somehow, he would make Evan listen to him; somehow, he would share what was in his heart or he would end it.

XXXXX

"Don't you think you've punished Randy long enough?" John asked.

"Excuse me," Evan replied coldly. John had been waiting for him backstage during the Raw broadcast and had pulled him into his dressing room.

"You know what I mean," he said. "Randy's eating his heart out these days. He made a stupid comment, but you won't even give him a chance."

"I don't see how it's any of your business," he sneered.

At the sight of Evan's insolent expression, John felt his control desert him. Grabbing him by his shirtfront, he pushed the smaller man against the wall. "Randy is my closest friend," he growled. "When I see him being hurt it becomes my business. Either hear him out or let him go. You don't want to make an enemy out of _me_."

"Are you threatening me?" Evan asked in mock surprise as he slithered from John's grasp. With surprising strength, he shoved John against the wall and, reaching up, wrapped his arm around his throat. "Planning to beat me up? It won't be as easy as you might think. Or" he hissed, tightening his hold, "are you just going to bury me? I'm not much more than a jobber already, so you don't scare me. It's about time people around here realised that I'm not some wide-eyed kid." Releasing him, he left the room.

John stared at the closed door, rubbing his neck ruefully. That hadn't gone at all as he had expected, but he found himself filled with reluctant admiration for Evan.

XXXXX

Almost the entire company had noticed the change in Evan. He was still friendly and good-natured; he treated the techs, ring crew and backstage personnel with his usual courtesy and greeted the fans with enthusiasm and a wide grin, but something was… different. There was a new, hard edge to his personality: an unwillingness to tolerate the teasing he had previously dismissed, a forced quality to his smile and a slight aloofness and cynicism that had never been seen before.

Riley and several others claimed that it was because he was spending too much time with Randy, but the first time someone had dared say it to his face, he had turned on him with a look of such withering contempt that it was never mentioned in his presence again. In the rare times he and Randy were seen together the tension between them was palpable.

"Normally I'd be saying that they should just fuck each other and get it over with," the Miz had tried to joke, "but they have and it just gets worse."

Neither made any attempt to hide their occasional meetings, but their grim intensity was such that it forbade all teasing and joking that would normally have followed. Finally, one of the road agents took Evan aside.

"I don't know what happened between you and Randy during the storm -," he had begun uncertainly.

"Bullshit!" Evan burst out. "Everyone knows what happened."

"All right," he said, trying to calm him down, "but you have to understand that, sometimes, in those situations, things happen. You have to be able to move on."

Evan turned on him, his voice shaking with rage. "Are you planning to have this conversation with Randy?" As the other man remained silent, he continued, "I didn't think so. After all, he's the star; he's the love-god. I'm just some cute little jobber, so, obviously, I'm the one who needs to be warned."

"Evan, please!" he exclaimed. "It's just that you and Randy used to be such good friends. This – this business, whatever it is, that's going on between you is making everyone else very uncomfortable."

"Too fucking bad!" he said bitterly, but at the agent's expression, he relented slightly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't take it out on you; you're just trying to do your job. I understand what you're trying to say."

"Good," he said in relief, "then you'll remember what I said?"

"Of course," Evan said blandly with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

XXXXX

Randy could feel the music vibrate through his entire body as he peered across the crowded dance floor of the club. From his vantage point, in the shadows, he could see the dancers while remaining hidden. What was he doing here, he wondered. He was tired and sore from his match that night; aching for a hot shower and bed. What insanity had brought him to a crowded, noisy club in the middle of the night? An overheard fragment of conversation in which Evan had confirmed that he would join a few of the others.

He had no idea what he expected to accomplish by seeking him out here, but, somehow, he felt compelled to follow him. And there, among the mass of bodies on the floor, he saw him: dressed in tight, black leather trousers and a black t-shirt that moulded itself to his compact frame, his head thrown back in abandon as he moved with the writhing sea of people; the cherub turned imp. He stepped out from behind the pillar and, suddenly, Evan became still. As their eyes met, Evan gave him a strange half-smile and began to dance again.

Helpless to resist, Randy made his way onto the dance floor, pushing past the other dancers until he reached Evan. He grabbed his arm and spun him around to face him, pulling him hard against his body. As Evan moved against him, his senses reeled from the pulsing throb of the music, the blinding flashes of the strobe lights and the heat and smell of the bodies around him. And something more: Evan's hip grinding into his crotch, Evan's groin riding his thigh and Evan's scent: an arousal so powerful it could not be denied.

And without releasing his iron grip on Evan's wrist, as the strobe flashed faster and faster and the music reached a screaming crescendo, he brought his mouth crashing down onto Evan's. His teeth scraped against Evan's lips as his tongue plundered the depths of his mouth. Evan responded eagerly, returning the kiss with a matching hunger as he pressed his body even closer against Randy's. Randy curled his hand around the back of Evan's neck as his mouth moved down his throat, his teeth grazing the tender flesh of his neck, oblivious to everything except the pounding music in his head and Evan's body moving against his own.

Suddenly, Evan broke free. Randy was sure he could hear his mocking laugh over the deafening music as he melted into the crowd. Blindly, he followed him across the floor, shoving through the sea of sweating bodies, through a passage to a fire-door, illegally propped open. He could hear Evan laughing softly in the darkness of the alley and, grasping the smaller man's shoulders, he shoved his chest against the wall. He reached down to open Evan's trousers, but his hand was pushed away as Evan opened them himself. Taking hold of him with one hand, he fumbled with his jeans with the other until he was able to open them.

"Is this what you want?" he whispered hoarsely, as Evan pushed his trousers down. "Is it?"

Evan's harsh panting and thrusting buttocks answered him without words as Randy spat in his hand and rubbed it on himself. He sank deep into Evan with a single brutal thrust that slammed him against the wall. He put his hand over Evan's mouth to muffle his cries of pain as he rammed into him over and over all the while pumping him mercilessly. In spite of his cries, Evan thrust backwards to meet him with every drive.

Randy could hear the blood roaring in his ears, the relentless beat of the music from inside the club and traffic passing on the nearby street as he pounded into Evan. "Take it," he muttered. "Take it all."

"Give it to me," Evan grunted as his muscles clenched around Randy and, with a low groan, he spurted over his hand.

Evan's spasms drove Randy over the brink and, as he sank his teeth into his shoulder, he burst forth, shuddering and gasping. They remained motionless for several minutes, shaking from the unexpected force of their coupling until, finally, Randy pulled gently away.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked, pulling up his jeans and fumbling in his pocket for a couple of tissues.

"Not really," he answered, taking one and attempting to clean himself before pulling up his trousers.

Randy nodded slightly and, taking firm hold of Evan's arm, led him through the alley to the street, where he hailed a passing cab.

Both were silent as they rode back to the hotel, where the cab, at Randy's direction, dropped them at a side door. Without words, they climbed the stairs to their floor, but, as soon as they entered the corridor, Randy grasped Evan's arm again and pulled him into his own room.

The door had barely shut behind them when Randy pinned Evan's wrists over his head and pushed him against the wall, but, just as he was about to lower his head, he caught sight of Evan's forearms and elbows, scraped raw and bleeding.

He caught his breath. "Christ Evan! Why didn't you say something?"

"I guess I had other things on my mind," he replied with a weak smile.

Grit and grime from the wall was embedded in the scrapes. "We'd better clean those up," said Randy, pulling him into the bathroom. In the harsh light, he was horrified to see abrasions caked with filth on one side of Evan's face. "You stupid ass," he muttered pushing him to sit on the closed toilet as he wet a facecloth with warm water. "How are you going to explain this?" he asked, gently dabbing the cloth on Evan's cheek.

"Rug burn?" he grinned.

"It's not funny, dammit!" Randy snapped.

"Relax! It's Monday. I've got a whole week before I have to be on TV. I'm sure the worst of it will have healed by then."

Shaking his head, Randy carefully cleaned Evan's arms and elbows, silencing his protests when he fetched a tube of antiseptic ointment and applied it to the scrapes.

"Take off your pants."

"Now?"

"I want to see your knees and legs."

Evan obeyed, to reveal knees as raw as his elbows. Randy sat on the edge of the tub to attend to them, finally lifting his head to look the other man in the eye. "Will you listen to me, please?" he asked quietly. Taking Evan's silence for assent, he continued, "That night, when we were having dinner, I never imagined that you would think I was warning you off. It never occurred to me that you would think something like that. Please, believe me," he begged.

"Could we continue this conversation somewhere other than the bathroom?"

Randy helped Evan stand and led him into the room. "You might as well get comfortable," he said. "You're not going anywhere tonight." He fixed such a fierce glare on the other man that he pulled off his shirt without a word and, clad only in his briefs, sat on the bed as Randy stripped down to his boxers sat leaning against the headboard.

"What was I supposed to think?" he asked. "You said yourself that most people understood that hook-ups in those situations were for that one night."

"I know I did," Randy said, resting his forearms on his drawn-up knees, "but don't you remember what I said to you earlier that day? I told you that I wanted to keep you as close to me as possible. That time we spent together was one of the best days I can remember."

"It was a terrific day, but it wasn't real. Like you said, it was a snow-day; we built a snowman for God's sake! And do you remember what I said to you? I don't want to be your little buddy."

"Then what do you want? Randy asked, his voice growing hard. "To be some sort of – of fuckrat? Because that's how you've been behaving and that's not you."

"How would you know?" Evan hissed. "How would you know what I am?"

"Do you remember the night we met?"

"Of course. It was my second show. You and your dad came around afterwards. I almost died from excitement. But Randy," he exclaimed, "I was seventeen years old! I'm not that kid anymore. I've been to college; I've travelled around the world; I've changed!"

"I know," he said quietly. "But do you know what I remember best about that night? How much I envied you."

"Envied me? How?"

"You were lit up from inside. You were glowing; you were happy; you were _alive_!" he exclaimed. "I was just out of the Marines," he said, his face darkening as he remembered that part of his life, "I felt dead inside. Empty. And that part of you hasn't changed. You give yourself entirely to whatever you're doing; something I almost never do."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what my dad is like; he was pretty tough on me. I probably deserved most of it, but it made me cautious, wary of just flinging myself into things. It seemed that something always happened when I did. That's what happened in the Marines and you've heard the stories about when I started in WWE; what I was like."

"I didn't believe most of them. They didn't sound like the person I know."

"Unfortunately, most of them _are_ true. I learned to control my temper and watch myself, but at a cost."

"Cutting yourself off from other people," Evan stated softly. "Not letting anyone see the real you."

"Exactly. It's like watching the world from behind a pane of glass. Sometimes," he added, "I would feel part of things; occasionally in the ring, especially when I wrestle John or that day with you."

"It must be very lonely. It must be very hard work to maintain that image."

"It is, but I've never felt I had to do that around you. You're not afraid to be yourself. You never have been and that makes you one of the bravest people I have ever known. So don't think, even for a second, that I ever thought of you as a playmate or that I want you to be my little buddy, as you put it."

"Then what do you want from me?" Evan asked, staring at the floor.

"I want you to be my friend," he said, moving down the bed to sit next to Evan. "I want you to be my companion, my lover." As Evan finally raised his eyes to look directly at Randy, he continued, "I've been watching you for years; I've been waiting for you for years. Do you think we can start again?"

"I don't know."

XXXXX

If the company had been puzzled by Randy and Evan's relationship before, they were completely baffled by the way things stood between them now. Although they were seen to exchange an occasional word, usually they studiously avoided one another. One or two crowed at the sight of the proud Randy Orton brought low, but most scoffed at the notion that Randy's heart had been broken by Evan Bourne.

Matters were not helped any when Evan let himself into a deserted locker room one night after a show to receive a resounding punch to the jaw that knocked him to the floor.

"I warned you," John growled, looming over him.

"And I warned you," he snarled back, hooking his leg around John's, bringing the bigger man down. Lightning quick, taking advantage of the other man's surprise, Evan straddled his chest, pinning his arms to the ground with his knees. "Unless you want to explain how you got your nose broken by a squirt like me, I suggest you mind your own business from now on," he said, releasing him.

Naturally, word got out and both were heavily fined. John's status saved him from suspension, but his insistence that he had been the instigator had also saved Evan.

"Although why you insisted that I should stick my neck out for that little prick is totally beyond me," he grumbled to Randy.

"Because it really isn't any of your business. It wouldn't be fair if he was suspended when you weren't. I offered to pay his fine; I know he really can't afford it."

"And how did that work out?"

"He told me to shove it," Randy said, smiling ruefully.

"He really is a prickly little bastard. Who would have thought it?"

"I know," he sighed. "They've put him on jobber detail and I don't dare interfere. He'd never forgive me."

"You still want him!" John exclaimed, staring at his friend in shock.

"Yes," he said.

"I hope he's worth it."

"He is."

XXXXX

Evan was surprised when, a few weeks later, Josh Matthews approached him and invited him for a beer after the Raw broadcast. Since his standoff with Randy and the incident with John, most of the company left him severely alone; worried that association with someone who had antagonised two such high-profile members might harm their own careers.

Even Josh, it seemed, found it necessary to exercise a certain amount of caution, meeting him at a bar a short distance from the hotel. "Thanks for meeting me," he said, sliding into a seat opposite Evan.

"No problem," he replied, signalling to the waitress to bring them a couple of beers, "but what's up?"

Josh's blush was evident, even in the dimly lit bar. "You know, during the storm," he began.

"Don't worry," Evan interrupted, "I haven't said a word to anyone and I won't; I promise."

"That's just it," he replied. "I'm beginning to wish that you had blabbed it all over the place."

"You do? Why?"

He took several large swallows of his beer before answering. "We've met up a few times since and now it's turned into this huge secret. At first, we wanted to keep it quiet because… well, you know."

"Yeah," Evan sighed. "I know, but why are you telling _me_ this?"

"Because you and Randy are the only ones who know. I had to talk about it with someone!" he said desperately. "And I need your help!"

Evan stared at him in surprise. "My help?"

"Yes! We're ready to let the rest of the guys know."

"Then do it. Start showing up together or leaving together. You don't need my help for that."

"It's not that simple," he said. "John says he doesn't care what people think, but I do. I can't stand the idea that people would be looking at us and wondering what he could possibly see in me when he could have almost anyone he wanted." He flushed again. "You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do," Evan said, "but I still don't see how I can help."

"If – if they had something else to talk about the first few times we were seen together, maybe we could slip under the radar."

"Like what?" Evan asked stonily.

"Like if you and Randy made up. Wait!" he exclaimed as Evan began to get up. "All you'd have to do is be seen together a couple of times. Maybe having dinner or drinks with John and me. And," he added, smiling innocently, "it wouldn't do _you_ any harm to be seen back on good terms with both of them."

"That's the stupidest idea I ever heard," he said angrily. "Anyway, I'm not exactly John's favourite person right now. I don't see him agreeing to go out on some sort of – of double-date."

"John feels really bad about what happened. Honestly. He got your fine revoked, didn't he?"

"What about Randy?" he asked sullenly. "What makes you think he'll go for it?"

"John's going to talk to him. You know there's nothing he wouldn't do for John."

"True."

"So, will you?"

Evan remained silent for several long minutes. He didn't think it would work. John had never been linked with anyone before; people were bound to talk. But he knew Josh spoke the truth: it would be good for him to be seen as having resolved his differences with the two biggest names in the company and, more important, he liked Josh. It didn't seem right to refuse to help him. "All right," he said reluctantly. "Let me know when and where."

XXXXX

Josh looked up and down the hotel corridor before swiping the key card John had given him earlier in the door. Slipping into the room, he found John reclining on the bed wearing only his boxer shorts.

"How'd it go?"

"It took some persuading," he said, as he sat on the end of the bed, removing his shoes and socks, "but he agreed. What about Randy?"

"Same. I still think you're nuts," John said. "Do you really think forcing them into each other's company will fix things?"

"They could hardly get worse," he answered, stripping off his shirt and jeans and lying down next to John, his head propped by one hand. "You said Randy wants to start again. They started as friends; they both need to remember that. Anyway," he added, drawing a finger down John's chest, "you'll discover soon enough that I usually get what I want."

"I noticed," John laughed as he rolled the smaller man on top of him and pulled his head down to his own.

XXXXX

Just as Evan let himself into his room, his phone rang. Seeing Randy's name on the call display, he pushed the talk button and answered with an abrupt "Hi."

"Did Josh talk to you?"

"Yes. I guess John spoke with you. So, what happens now?"

"John suggested that we all go for drinks next Sunday evening after the pay-per-view."

"Okay," Evan answered as he cradled the phone under his chin while he undressed for bed. "We'll touch base later to finalise the details."

"Um – thanks for agreeing to do this."

"I like Josh," Evan replied, "and, in spite of recent events, I like John. I don't know how much help we're going to be, but I really couldn't say no."

"Me either."

Evan heard Randy take a deep breath and interrupted him before he could speak. "So, I'll see you later, then," he said, pushing the end button.

He dropped the phone onto the bed and sat, burying his head in his hands. Cutting himself off from Randy had been the hardest thing he had ever done, but Josh's words came back to him. "_I can't stand the idea that people would be looking at us and wondering what he could possibly see in me when he could have almost anyone he wanted._" Yes, he knew exactly what Josh meant. He knew many had watched him and Randy and wondered the same thing.

He remembered the night he met Randy. Until then he had been struggling to accept the truth about himself, but that night, he had taken one look at Randy and he had _known_. Once or twice over the years he had caught Randy's eyes on him and had allowed himself to hope, especially after he signed with WWE. Randy had never treated him with anything but kindness, but neither had he shown anything more than a brotherly affection towards him and, eventually, he had resigned himself to the idea that it would never happen.

Until their snow-bound interlude.

There was no mistaking Randy's intentions and he had responded to the invitation he had seen in Randy's eyes, but as the day progressed, it had become increasingly clear that Randy _didn't_ know him, that in spite of his protests, he still thought of him as the wide-eyed kid he'd been when they met. Maybe he had misunderstood Randy's comments at dinner that night, but until Randy understood that he had seen his truest, innermost self that night and, again, in the alley behind the club, and until he was ready to accept that he would never be the sweetly accommodating companion he expected, there would be no starting over.

XXXXX

"I thought you said John and Josh would be joining us," Evan complained as he and Randy sat at a table in the crowded hotel bar.

"They will," Randy replied. "They're going to slip in one at a time after everyone has gotten a good look at us.

"How's this?" Evan asked, opening his eyes wide and giving Randy such an adoring smile that he felt his heart turn over.

"Perfect," he muttered, bending his head to look at him with eyes blazing with passionate intensity.

"So, do we sit here making goo-goo eyes at each other while we talk about the weather?"

"Something like that," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching as the absurdity of the situation hit him.

"How's your dad?" he asked, as he increased the wattage of his smile.

Randy moved closer to Evan, putting his arm across the back of his chair. "He's fine."

Evan couldn't resist it. He had seen the gleam in Randy's eyes. Tipping his head back, in a gesture of surrender, so that it lolled against Randy's arm, he murmured, "And your mom?"

"She's fine, too," he replied in a strangled voice.

"Your brother? Your sister?"

Randy could contain himself no longer and burst out laughing. Nor could Evan control himself as he began to sputter with laughter. More than a few heads turned to look at the pair as they shared their first comfortable moment in many weeks.

"You always did know how to make me laugh," he said as he recovered himself.

"You always take yourself way too seriously," Evan retorted. "It's fun to make you lose control." Their eyes met and an awkward silence fell between them. "But we did get everyone's attention," he added.

"That we did," Randy chuckled as people around them averted their eyes when he raked them with his gaze.

With a certain amount of relief, Evan spotted Josh making his way across the bar to their table.

"Thanks for doing this," he said as he took a seat and gestured to a waitress. "John will be along in a few minutes."

"No problem," Evan said blandly. "I was just catching up on Randy's family news."

"Yes," Randy said, his lip quivering slightly, "Evan was just asking after them all."

"You two have known each other a long time, haven't you?" Josh asked.

"Yes. About ten years," Randy said.

"Randy and his dad used to come to my shows sometimes."

"That must have been quite a thrill for you," Josh said.

"It was," Evan answered. He sipped his drink. "I couldn't believe that Cowboy Bob Orton would actually come to see _me_. He and Randy, both; they gave me so much encouragement at the beginning. I'll never forget that." His voice softened, "And I'll always be grateful for what they did for me."

Randy felt himself grow warm. "It's no more that what you did for me." At Evan's puzzled expression, he continued, "When we first met, he was seventeen and probably weighed 120 pounds, soaking wet. Whenever I got frustrated with the way things were going with my own career, I'd remember this skinny kid with glasses, who wouldn't give up."

"You mean if the ninety-eight pound nerd with glasses could be a wrestler, so could you?' Evan asked surprise evident in his voice.

"No," Randy said quietly. "I mean that you love this business so much that watching you makes me remember that I love it, too. Why do you think my dad likes you so much? He recognised that in you from the beginning. You love it the way guys like Flair and Funk and Harley Race do. You know my dad doesn't like too many of the younger guys today, but he likes you and, more important, he respects you."

"Wow!" Josh marvelled. "From what I've heard about Cowboy Bob, that puts you in a very small club."

Evan sat quietly, digesting this information, as John approached their table.

"Hey guys!" he said a trifle too loudly, "mind if I join you?"

"No problem," Randy answered, but as John took a seat, he continued, "I think you're overdoing it a bit."

"Sorry," he muttered, "but thanks, both of you, for going along with this. I _told_ him that all this wasn't necessary, but he has some stupid bee in his bonnet," he added, his words belied by the affectionate glance he sent in Josh's direction.

They spent the next fifteen minutes chatting about trivial things as Evan leaned into Randy, his eyes fixed on his face with breathless intensity, giving him a heart-melting smile every time he made eye contact.

Randy, who was growing increasingly uncomfortable, finally shifted in his chair and said,"Jesus Evan! Turn it down a notch. Everyone in the room probably thinks you're planning to tear off my clothes right here."

"Isn't that what you wanted?" he asked, his voice dropping to a low, intimate whisper.

"Yes! No!" Randy sputtered. "You know what I mean!" he exclaimed, missing the conspiratorial looks John and Josh exchanged. He stood. "I think it's time we called it a night."

"Whatever you want," Evan murmured, getting to his feet and following Randy from the bar.

"You little prick," he whispered softly as they crossed the lobby to the elevator, his hand resting on the small of Evan's back. "You're enjoying this."

"Maybe," he said, smiling to show his eye-teeth. "But," he added, becoming serious as they rode the elevator, "I meant what I said earlier. Whatever else may have happened, I am grateful for everything you've done for me. I won't forget it. Ever."

"And I meant what I said, too. I've always admired you for your commitment and passion. I still do," he said quietly.

"Thanks," he said, swiping his key card. "That means a lot." He disappeared into his room.

XXXXX

John was sitting on his bed, pulling off his shoes and socks, when his phone rang. "Hey Randy," he said.

"I hope that went as you were expecting."

"Absolutely," he replied. "Are you alone?"

"Of course. What did you expect?"

"I don't know, but Evan looked like he wanted to eat you alive the whole time."

"Wasn't that what you and Josh wanted?"

"Yeah," he said, opening his shirt and shrugging it off, "but there's no way he's that good an actor."

"It seems that he is." Randy's sigh was evident, even over the phone. "How much longer do we have to keep this up?"

"Just a couple more times. Listen," he said, "I'm really grateful for this. He's got this hang-up that people will think I could do better. I've told him over and over that I couldn't, but he's scared, so I'll do whatever it takes to make him happy."

"Sounds like you're falling for him big-time," Randy chuckled.

"I am," he said, looking up to see Josh standing in the open door that connected their rooms. "And you might be alone, but I'm not," he said, ending the call. "How much did you hear?" he asked.

"Enough," Josh said, coming to kneel before John and open his flies.

An hour later, they lay replete, Josh's head pillowed on John's shoulder. "Do you really think this crazy scheme of yours is going to work?" John asked.

"You should have seen them. They were laughing together when I arrived and I got them talking about when they first met. A blind man could see how they feel about each other."

"They do need their heads knocked together, I'll agree," John said, brushing a kiss against Josh's hair. "But will you believe me when I say that I don't care what people might say about us? I could never do better than you and I'll flatten anyone who says so."

"Of course I believe you. I always have." He smiled impishly, "But someone had to get those two talking again."

"Why you little –" John exclaimed, rolling Josh over to pin him to the mattress. "I ought to spank you."

"I'd like to see you try," Josh laughed, winding his arms around John's neck.

XXXXX

Randy and Evan joined John and Josh in the hotel coffee shop for dinner the following night after the Raw broadcast. "I'll be glad when this business is done," Randy grumbled.

"Really?" Evan replied in mock surprise. "You mean you don't like gazing soulfully at each other while half the company watches?" He punctuated these words by wriggling closer to Randy while grinning up at him.

"That's enough," he hissed. "You keep this up and I'll put you over my knee."

"Promises, promises," he sighed languidly, but moved slightly away.

John, Randy and Evan ordered pasta and salad, staring enviously at Josh's fried chicken. "I guess that's one of the advantages of my job," he laughed, "I don't have to follow a no-fat, no-carb, no food diet." He spread a roll thickly with butter and wolfed it down.

"Hey Randy," John said, "Remember when you tried to follow that stupid macrobiotic diet? How long did that last? Two weeks?"

"I remember," he said, rolling his eyes. "Brown rice, brown rice and more brown rice. Bleah!"

"When I was in Japan, I ate a lot of fish," Evan said. "I probably still would if it were possible to find it on the road."

"Did you ever have that one, where there's only a tiny bit that's safe to eat?" Josh asked.

"Yeah. I didn't like it that much, but I suppose it's something to be able to say I tried it."

"Well, you're braver than me," John said, "or Randy. Whenever we're in Europe, we end out looking for a McDonalds because we're scared we'll end out ordering brains or something like that in a restaurant. We're not too adventurous that way."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Evan said, looking up at Randy with limpid eyes. "Randy's tongue can be _very_ adventurous."

As John choked on his drink, Randy pushed his plate away. "I'm sorry guys," he said between gritted teeth, "I can't do this anymore." He pushed past Evan and strode out of the restaurant.

"You'd better go after him," Josh said, but Evan had already left the table.

He managed to slip into the elevator just as the door was closing. "Randy," he said. "I'm sorry. I went too far."

Randy stared fixedly at the floor indicator, the only sign of any emotion a muscle twitching in his cheek. "I don't understand you," he whispered hoarsely. "All these years, I've loved someone who doesn't exist. You were right. I don't know you. And," he said as the door opened, "I don't want to."

Evan could see Randy walk slowly down the corridor to his room, his shoulders slumped and his head bowed, as the elevator door closed. Fighting the urge to run after him, he rode to his own floor and let himself into his room where he flopped onto the bed and lay staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

He'd overplayed his hand, but he had been right. Randy had been attracted to some idealised version of the seventeen year-old he had been when they met. But knowing he was right was absolutely no comfort as the tears slipped down his face.


	2. Chapter 2

Randy and Evan's supposed brief reconciliation and split provided enough of a distraction that by the time people noticed that John and Josh were a couple, it was already old news. Neither Randy nor Evan made any particular effort to avoid one another and, when circumstances forced them together, they could be seen having an impersonal conversation. This lack of tension and the fact that they acted like polite strangers convinced the company that any feelings they might have had for one another were completely gone.

One or two, however, knew otherwise. John watched with deep concern as Randy retreated into his Viper character, holding himself aloof from everyone else, disappearing as soon as his match was over or sitting alone at the hotel bar, his entire demeanour repelling anyone who might have joined him, drinking steadily until closing time.

As for Evan, it was whispered that he was drifting into very dangerous waters. There were reports that he was in the clubs almost every night, dancing and drinking until the early hours. And darker rumours began to surface: that he seldom left alone and that he was flirting with suspension or termination as suspicion mounted as to how he maintained this pace.

But when John mentioned it to Josh late one night, he was stunned by Josh's reply. "It's not true or it's highly exaggerated," he said. "You know that I have access to certain information that you don't." As John nodded, he continued, "The road agents have heard all the gossip. Well, they got worried and called him in. He tested clean."

"But what about all the stories about him running wild at the clubs?"

"Who's been telling those stories?" he asked. "Riley and Mike. I wouldn't trust those two any further than I could throw them. Yes, he is partying pretty hard these days, but not nearly to the extent that people think."

"Then why is he letting people say these things about him?"

"Think about it," Josh replied. "When was the last time you saw one of the girls pinch his cheek or fuss over him? When was the last time you heard one of the guys call him squirt? I've had my share of that kind of treatment over the years and it's pretty damned annoying. Being told you remind them of a teddy bear gets old really fast. At least people are looking at him in a new light."

"A teddy bear, huh? And how many of them wanted to snuggle you in bed at night?"

"A few," he laughed. "Anyway, why do you care? You've barely had a word to say about him in weeks."

"I liked the guy," John answered with a shrug. "I'd hate to think he was flushing his career down the toilet."

"You're a lousy liar," Josh said as he climbed into bed. Grinning at the flush that spread across John's face, he went on, "Randy asked you to find out if it was true, didn't he?"

"Well…" John's voice trailed off. "They were friends for a long time. He's worried about him."

"Sure he is." Josh rolled his eyes. "And what are you going to tell Randy?"

"I'm going to tell him that every word is true. That the only reason he got through the drug test was because they were too embarrassed to admit that they'd lost his sample. That I wheedled all of this out of you in strictest confidence and that you're convinced that he's bent on self-destruction."

"What do you think that will accomplish?"

"Evan's behaving like a six year old, who realises the more disruptive he is, the more attention he'll get. Whose attention do you think he really wants?"

"He's playing a very dangerous game." Josh sighed. "I hope it doesn't backfire on him."

XXXXXX

Randy sat sullenly at the bar nursing his drink as John gravely recounted his tale. "He's going to find himself in serious trouble soon if somebody doesn't stop him," he finished.

He smiled faintly at John. "And I guess that somebody is me?"

"You're the one who asked me to find out. Please don't say anything to anyone else," he begged. "Josh could get into a lot of trouble if they knew he had told me this much."

"Yes, I was the one who asked. And we do go way back. Maybe I'll try to have a little chat with him."

Something, that John couldn't quite define, flickered across his face, but, pleased to see Randy roused from his apathy of the past several weeks, he ventured another comment. "Aren't you about ready for a refill of that ginger ale?"

Suddenly Randy relaxed and smiled. "How long have you known?"

"What?" John grinned. "That you've been sitting at the bar most nights drowning your sorrows in soft drinks? A couple of weeks. Don't forget, I've seen you when you've been drinking _and_ I've seen you the next morning."

"Let's just say that I wanted to be left alone, but didn't necessarily want to _be_ alone. It's funny," he said, "I told Evan during the storm that sometimes it's easier to act the way people expect."

"Then how would you explain his behaviour?"

That odd expression appeared again for a second. "I'd say he's behaving exactly as I'd expect him to."

Puzzled, John bid him good night and headed up to his room, wondering if that gleam he had seen in Randy's eyes was suppressed laughter.

XXXXXX

The sun was beginning to rise the following morning as Randy loitered in the small hotel gym. Taking a large swallow from a bottle of water, he just managed to repress a smile as Evan strolled in.

"For someone who's supposed to be painting the town red every night, you're looking remarkably well-rested," he smirked.

"And for someone who's supposed to be drinking the bar dry every night, you're looking very well," Evan shot back. "How did you know I'd be here?"

"Easy. I bribed the desk clerk into telling me that you'd left a five a.m. wake-up call. You always liked to work out early. It wasn't hard to figure out you'd be here."

"I suppose you're going to give me a lecture about my behaviour: how I'm taking chances with my career; that I'd better shape up before it's too late," he said as he retied his shoes.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Randy said, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "And spoil all your fun."

"How did you find out?"

Randy sat on the bench next to Evan. "You accused me of not really knowing you, but I do know one thing: this business means more to you than anything else in the world. You would never jeopardise your career doing the kind of things people are saying. How did you convince everyone?"

Evan smiled reluctantly. "I'll admit that I did hit the clubs kind of hard for a week or two, but I couldn't keep that sort of thing up for too long. A couple of the guys saw me a few times and it grew from there." He picked up a towel and slung it around his neck. "Spot me, will you?" he asked approaching the equipment. "Anyway, who's been spreading the stories about me at the clubs?"

"Riley and Mike," Randy answered, taking his place at Evan's head.

"Then I owe them a steak dinner," he grinned. "Yeah, they saw me one night, but I ran into them a week later at a midnight showing at the movies. They promised to keep it quiet."

"You mean when everybody thought you were out partying you were at the movies?"

"Not every time," Evan replied opening his eyes wide. "Sometimes I went to a coffee shop or diner or a small bar. Once or twice I found an all-night laundromat."

Randy burst out laughing. "So, while everyone was worrying themselves sick about you and you got hauled in for a drug test, you were doing your laundry."

"Yep. Now shut up and let me work out."

Randy complied, but when he was finished, Evan turned to him and asked, "How did you know about the drug test? Never mind; I think I can guess."

"I think I understand why you let all this talk start," Randy said, handing Evan a bottle of water, "but don't you think you've gone a bit too far?'

"Yeah. The drug test spooked me a bit. I guess I'll start letting everyone see me go to bed nice and early, like the good boy I am," he sighed. "But, you know, it was fun in a way; being the bad boy for once."

"I can see that," he said. "And you were right," he added quietly, "there is a lot I don't know about you. I never took the time to try and learn it either. I'm sorry."

"And I'm sorry, too," Evan replied. "I'm sorry about how I behaved those evenings we were with John and Josh. I had no right to tease you like that. And I'm sorry about how I treated you while we were – were together." He fiddled with the drawstring on his sweatpants. "I was so determined _not_ to be that kid you remembered and," he said, looking Randy in the eye, "I couldn't believe I had that sort of power over you; that I could make you run after me and I got a lot of nasty pleasure out of exercising it." He stood and picked up his bag. "I destroyed our friendship and I regret that, more than I can ever say."

And with that, he shouldered his bag and left the gym.

XXXXXX

The gossip about Randy and Evan died down over the next several weeks as Evan returned to his former habits and Randy stopped haunting the hotel bar, but, it was agreed, that both had changed. Evan was quieter and more withdrawn, but brought a steely intensity to his matches that caused comment in some quarters.

"Jesus, it's only a house-show," Ryder complained one night. "You don't have to act like it's friggin' Wrestlemania."

"So, what if it is?" He had turned on him in fury. "Chances are I'll never make it to Wrestlemania. The fans deserve the best match I can give them."

"Get a load of Ric Flair, here," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, Flair said that, And Randy says-" he abruptly cut himself off. "If you don't like the way I wrestle, go complain to the booking committee."

Ryder stared after him in disbelief. A year earlier, Evan would have apologised and asked how he could make things easier for him. But he wouldn't go to the bookers; he knew Evan had drawn a much better match from him than he otherwise would have been able to give.

Still fuming, Evan strode down the corridor and burst into Randy's dressing room. "You know what I really hate about being in the mid-card?"

"No. What?" he asked, managing not to smile at the sight of Evan's flushed, scowling face.

"The fucking opponents! Look, I know I'm probably not going to rise much higher, but some of those – those assholes could, but they won't put the work in."

"Sounds like you've been talking to my dad again."

"Yeah, the other week when we were back home."

One unexpected dividend of their conversation in the hotel gym was that they had started to repair their shattered friendship. It had begun simply enough a few days later when they found themselves in a deserted hotel coffee shop one morning and had eaten breakfast together and had grown slowly from there. By the time they had come to St Louis for a house-show, it had seemed natural that Evan and his parents should join the Ortons for dinner.

Although he had accused Randy of not really knowing him, he realised that he had given him no opportunity, that he had still responded to him over the years like the seventeen year-old he had been. This time, he openly voiced his frustration and worries, instead of dismissing them with a smile as he used to and, on occasion, he sought Randy's advice; something he had refused to do in the past, worried that he might appear to be asking for favours.

For his part, Randy responded generously: encouraging Evan's confidences, listening with a sympathetic ear to his complaints and offering sound advice. In turn, he found himself sharing his ambivalence about his viper character.

"But Randy, it's a great character," Evan had said. "It beats the scrappy underdog with the never say die attitude by a mile."

"Maybe so," he had said, smiling faintly, "but maintaining it is a pretty lonely business. You and John are just about the only ones who ever saw beyond it."

Sometimes, an awkward silence fell between them and some moments were distinctly uncomfortable, but both gradually began to feel at ease together and their relationship matured as they learned to treat one another as equals and discovered a far richer and more rewarding friendship.

Randy, too, had changed. One night, in his dressing room before his match, he shared with Evan his irritation with the fact that many believed that his rise to the top had been easy and effortless.

"I know it happened fast and I know having a name helped, but they forget I grew up around the business. I came in knowing things that a lot of them have to learn. A lot of them never learn these things and then they resent it when they don't rise any higher on the card." He began to pace around the small room. "That's one of the things I always admired about you. You learned these things."

"Because I was lucky enough to meet you and your father. You taught them to me; both of you," Evan said. "Most of the guys don't get that chance."

"I learned from my father and grandfather and from guys like Funk and Flair. There's no one around to teach them these days."

"You could." he said softly.

Randy gave no thought to this conversation until a few days later he saw two of the younger members of the company struggling to work out a spot. Without thinking, he approached the pair and offered a suggestion. Startled, they followed his direction and the rest of the match fell into place. Telling himself it was just curiosity he watched their match that night and congratulated both afterwards, brushing aside their thanks.

But the seed had been planted and in a very short time he found himself watching the rookies, occasionally even climbing into the ring to demonstrate a hold or a manoeuvre. As the younger wrestlers started to seek him out backstage or in the gym and he shared the things passed down to him by his father and grandfather his sense of isolation began to disappear.

And yet, in spite of their new camaraderie, in spite of Evan's satisfaction as his co-workers began to take him seriously and in spite of Randy's new-found sense of belonging, both were filled with desperate longing and had no idea what to do next.

XXXXXX

By the time the company arrived in Miami for that week's Raw broadcast everyone was short-tempered and irritable. Their most recent house-show loop had been plagued by faulty equipment, delayed flights and a sweltering heat wave that left most of them gasping. Nor did things improve when they arrived at the venue to discover that the air conditioning had been turned so low as to be virtually non-existent in an effort to spare the strained power grid of southern Florida.

Evan was frankly glad to be close enough to Tampa that he could drive home as soon as the show was over. "I'm going to rent a car," he said. "I'll put some tunes on and be home in about five hours. You'll probably still be stuck in the airport while I'm sleeping in my own bed," he crowed to Randy, but there were no rental cars available until the next morning and he resigned himself to staying overnight in Miami and began a fruitless search for a place to stay.

"You're not going to believe this," Josh chuckled, approaching Evan backstage after the show ended. "They're predicting some god-awful storm and all flights out have been cancelled. It looks like we've been marooned by the weather again. Have you found a place yet?"

"No," he answered. "Every hotel is fully booked."

"I know," Josh said. "There are a whole bunch of conventions in town this week and every half-decent place is filled. I snagged a couple of rooms in a motel across town. If you don't mind sharing, you'll have a bed."

"No problem. I promise I don't snore."

"Not with me," he said, rolling his eyes, "but you could do me a favour."

"What's that?"

"Obviously, I want to share with John, but rooms are really scarce and nobody has the nerve to ask Randy to share. John thinks he should offer."

Evan laughed. "Never let it be said that I stood in the way of true love."

He headed down the steamy corridor and knocked on Randy's dressing room door. "Hey," he said as Randy opened it, "everybody heard about how loud you snore and drew straws. I lost," he finished with an impish grin.

More than few of the backstage personnel were astonished to see Randy respond by poking his tongue out and swearing terrible vengeance.

XXXXXX

Evan, Randy, Josh and John climbed into a decrepit mini van that Josh had found to pick them up. If anything, it was hotter than it had been all day and the humidity made them sit wilted and despondent as the vehicle made its way through littered streets to a part of town none of them had ever seen before. Everyone that was, except Randy, who sat grinning like one enjoying a huge private joke as he hung out the window, pointing out derelict buildings and abandoned cars in the awestruck tones of a tourist seeing the Sistine Chapel.

They were relieved to pull up in front of a somewhat run-down, but otherwise respectable looking two-storey motel built around a courtyard with a pool. Randy hopped out of the van, handing the driver a fifty dollar bill, gravely thanking him for the delightful sightseeing tour and followed the others into the motel office.

"Why am I not surprised?" John whispered when the clerk demanded that they pay cash up-front for their rooms.

Eventually, they made their way to their rooms on the ground floor. Randy opened the door and flicked on the light. Looking around the tiny room, the two beds barely inches apart, the TV perched precariously on a wobbly table and single chair that the door hit as he opened it, Randy, the corner of his mouth twitching, said, "Well, it's cozy."

Evan burst out laughing as he turned on the window air conditioner unit that wheezed and rattled, but gave off no cool air. "I always pictured that if we ever spent another night together it would be in some incredibly luxurious place with a fireplace and champagne in a silver ice bucket." Suddenly he fell silent, realising what he had said.

"You thought about spending the night together again?" Randy asked quietly.

"Yes," he said staring at the threadbare carpet.

"Me too."

They stood, awkwardly silent for several seconds, until Randy spoke again. "There's a convenience store across the road. Why don't we go buy a six-pack and see if that ice machine we passed on the way works?" He brandished a small plastic bucket that sat on top of the TV.

Upon their return, Evan turned off the air conditioner. "All this thing does is make noise," he said, but as a rhythmic "thunk-thunk" could be heard from the neighbouring room, he switched it back on. "I don't think I remember it ever being this hot," he said as he swiped his forehead, "and I live in Florida now."

"But it's a weird sort of heat. I mean, there is a breeze, but even that is hot. It makes the back of my neck prickle."

"We're supposed to be in for a hell of a storm. The air feels funny; it's like you're waiting for something to happen."

"Um – yeah," he said, handing Evan a beer.

They stretched out on the beds drinking in companionable silence as they tried to ignore the noises from next door. Finally, Evan spoke, "Randy, can I ask you something?"

"I guess," he said, his voice wary.

"It's none of my business and you don't have to answer, but during the storm you said that the last time you were stuck like that you woke up next to somebody. Who was it?" As Randy remained quiet, he continued, "It's okay; you don't have to tell me. It's just that there was never any talk about you and anybody else."

"It was Adam. We were still partners then. He'd had a blow-out with his girlfriend a week or so earlier. Like I said, we'd both been drinking pretty heavily and it just… happened. Just that once."

"Were you hoping for more?"

"I don't know. We were close then, but I should have known better. We agreed that it was a one-time thing, but, yes, it still hurt," he sighed.

"Is that how you got it into your head that hook-ups like that don't work?"

Randy nodded and sipped his beer. "I should have told you about it then. It would have saved us a lot of trouble." He smiled ruefully.

"I don't know," Evan replied. "I said you didn't know me, but I never really gave you the chance; I just expected you to understand. That wasn't fair of me. And I didn't really know you. I know it sounds strange after ten years, but it's true. I carried around an image of you and then punished you when you didn't live up to it."

"Did you really?" Randy asked in surprise. "I always thought you were one of the few, who weren't taken in by my image."

"Not the Viper!" Evan exclaimed, sitting up and hugging his knees. "The image I carried around was far harder for you to live up to."

"What was it?"

"You have to remember that I _was_ a kid when we met. I was still trying to accept what I am, but when I saw you, I knew. You're so beautiful and you were so kind to me; you love wrestling as much as I do; you helped me and encouraged me. I thought you were perfect," he finished simply.

"But nobody could possibly live up to that," Randy said gently.

"I know," he said. "We really didn't have a chance and it was my fault. But I'm glad that we've been able to clear the air between us. I really missed you during those weeks."

"So did I."

Evan passed Randy another beer and opened one for himself as they heard a low rumble of thunder. "I guess the storm is finally coming in," he said as the thunder rolled again. "Let's go watch it."

"I don't want to get all wet."

"It's not raining yet. Let's go." Suddenly, Evan noticed that Randy was looking distinctly uneasy, jumping as another thunderclap sounded. "You're afraid of thunder storms!" he exclaimed.

"Not exactly. It's just…"

"You are!" Evan grinned. "Don't worry your secret is safe with me."

"Okay, I'll admit that they make me nervous."

"I promise not to tell," he said solemnly, "but I'm going to step outside for a minute and watch."

Evan slipped out the door into the breathless heat of the night. He could hear the thunder, growing louder and closer, as the horizon lit up, but the air remained still and heavy. Filled with awe, he watched the jagged streaks of lightning split the sky when, suddenly, the air itself began to change. The tiniest whisper of a breeze cooled his skin as the dust and trash on the sidewalk began to stir and move. And, finally, fat drops of rain started to fall, slowly at first, then more heavily until Evan could barely see for the sheets of water that poured down.

Giving in to a compulsion he did not understand, Evan stepped out from under the overhang and stood with his head thrown back, allowing the rain to cascade over him, his fists clenched, laughing at the deafening thunder as the lightning flashed and streaked through the sky.

He turned to see Randy standing in the doorway. "Evan! Get back inside!" he yelled.

"In a minute," he shouted back as a blinding flash lit up the sky, glowing with a queer violet luminescence.

And Randy, watching him laugh at the elements as the rain poured down, silhouetted in the brilliance of the blazing lightning, surrendered himself to the chaos and pulled him into his arms and brought his mouth down onto Evan's.

Evan curled his arm around Randy's neck, pulling him closer, opening himself completely to his kisses as Randy effortlessly picked him up and carried him back into the room. He dropped him onto one of the beds and quickly stripped off his clothing while Evan did the same. Crouching over him, Randy took Evan's face between his hands. "You need to know this," he muttered. "If we go on, I will never let you go. Never. You will be mine; always."

"I've always been yours," Evan murmured. "Since the day we met."

"Of course you have," Randy said, laughing triumphantly. "And I belong to you," he added, folding Evan into his arms as they shared their first kiss as lovers.

Evan moulded himself against Randy's body, running his hands down the length of his torso, his fingertips tingling as he stroked the smooth skin, feverishly returning Randy's kisses as he tried to convey all the love he had been too proud and stubborn to admit. Shaking with want, he cupped Randy's buttocks, drawing him closer as he pushed his groin upwards. "Now," he groaned. "Do it now!"

"Oh no you don't," Randy laughed softly. "I've waited for this for almost ten years. Tonight, you let me love you as I've always wanted to."

Fine words, he thought as he dipped his head to imprint a trail of tiny kisses along Evan's jaw. His own need was so great he knew he would not be able to wait for long before claiming Evan entirely. Evan sighed and arched his back as Randy's caressing lips sketched delicate patterns across his collar bones and moved down his body. His long tongue reached out to trace the vein on the underside of Evan's shaft and to tease the tiny sensitive ridge below the head.

Evan moaned softly when Randy's mouth closed over him and raised his haunches to allow him to press a finger slowly into his opening. Randy moved his finger slowly at first, then more quickly as his mouth slid along Evan's shaft. He could hear Evan's shallow panting and murmurs of pleasure as he increased his speed, readying him as gently as possible to make him his own.

Finally, he lifted his head and moving up the bed, positioned himself, carefully pushing in. His eyes never left Evan's face as he remained still, until he was sure that Evan had accepted him without distress. Revelling in the sight of Evan, his face flushed with passion, his lips slightly parted, he gathered him into his arms and lifted him, to hold him close as he sought his mouth, muffling his cries with his kisses.

Together, they climbed, held back and climbed again until Evan, driven to the brink as his shaft slipped across Randy's sweat-slick abdomen, burst forth. Randy held still for a moment, pressing gentle kisses against Evan's brow, cheeks and lips, until he too could bear no more and yielded himself entirely to Evan with a soft groan.

Still holding him close, Randy gently lowered Evan back onto the bed and eased away carefully, but as he tried to rise, Evan caught him in his arms and cradled his head against his chest, tracing the contours of his face with his fingertips.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered.

"Only for you," Randy said softly. "Always for you."

They held each other for several long minutes until finally, Randy rose and went to the bathroom. Cleaning himself quickly, he returned to the room with a wet facecloth to find a hugely grinning Evan stretched out on the other bed. "I was drenched when we came in. The other bed is soaked."

"I can't say that I noticed," Randy laughed, handing him the cloth. "I guess we'll both have to sleep in this one."

"I suppose so," he replied, grinning even wider as he tossed the cloth away. "But if you fidget too much, you'll be sleeping on the floor."

"Planning to push me out?" he asked, switching off the light and lying down beside him.

"Never," Evan murmured. "I'll never push you away again."

In spite of the heat, Randy pulled Evan into his arms and pillowed his head on his shoulder. And for the first time since the snowstorm Evan slept in Randy's arms, close to his heart.

XXXXXX

John stretched and groaned, rolling his head, trying to work out the kinks. "Jesus, that has to be the most uncomfortable bed I've ever slept in. Are you sure this was the only place you could find?"

"It was the only place far enough from the airport. And," Josh added with a grin, "I didn't notice you complaining last night."

"I wasn't trying to sleep last night. Anyway, those two are going to owe us big-time. I think we should let them take us out for dinner next week; somewhere really expensive."

"I thought you said it was a terrible idea; that it would never work."

"Yeah, well while you were snoring away last night I heard some pretty interesting noises coming from next door," he said laughing as Josh turned bright red remembering that he and John had been anything but quiet themselves.

XXXXXX

Randy woke to find Evan softly nestled against him. Watching him sleep, his lashes making dark fans against his cheeks, his face even more youthful in his sleep, his heart lurched. Sometimes Evan still resembled the seventeen year-old who had stared up at him, his eyes glowing with hero-worship, but he didn't want the adoration of a boy; not when he could enjoy the fruits and, yes, the challenges of building a relationship with a true companion.

Evan stirred and smiled sleepily at him. "Good morning," he mumbled, but as Randy sought his mouth he pulled away. "I've got morning mouth," he said with a comical grimace.

'Well, I've got morning wood," Randy grinned.

"Just give me a minute and we'll do something about that," he answered, climbing out of bed and disappearing into the bathroom.

Half an hour later, they lay sated as Randy asked, "Do you want to go find some breakfast?"

"I guess," he replied, "but I do have to head out soon. I need to be home later today."

"Oh sure," Randy said, his heart sinking as he wondered if Evan was going to slip away from him again.

"I was wondering how soon do you have to be back in St Louis." He took a deep breath. "I was hoping you might want to drive to Tampa with me and stay at my place tonight."

"There's nothing I have to be home for right away," he answered, his face lighting up with a smile such as Evan had never seen before. "There's nothing I'd like more than to go home with you today. But I do need to tell you something."

"What's that?"

"The airport wasn't closed last night. When Josh heard you were stuck here he set the whole thing up." He stared apprehensively at Evan, who was scowling as he digested this information.

"You're saying that you and John and Josh did all of this so you could get me to yourself?"

"Yes. Please understand!" Randy begged. "I was getting desperate and Josh just wanted to help. Don't be angry with him!"

Evan smiled slowly, showing his eye-teeth. "I'm afraid you're going to have to pay for that."

Randy shivered at the sight of that smile; that side of Evan that nobody suspected and felt a prickle run up his spine. "As you wish," he murmured, catching Evan in his arms.

"Then we'd better go and find some breakfast. You're going to need all your strength for later."


End file.
